


love is a bowl of food, scraped empty

by deadwine



Series: 17hols prompt fills [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Hospital Playlist Fusion, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, One-sided pining, Single Father Jeon Wonwoo, Surgeons Soonwoo, Wonwoo as Ikjun Soonyoung as Songhwa, Wonwoo pines for two decades dot mp3, wonwoo could be ikjun but tbh he's even more repressed than jeongwon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadwine/pseuds/deadwine
Summary: Soonyoung’s hand stills over the food. “Wonwoo,” he asks, voice careful yet stern, as if he’s telling off his interns, “when was the last time you did something for yourself?”“For myself?” Wonwoo muses out loud.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi
Series: 17hols prompt fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099856
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58
Collections: Seventeen Holidays





	love is a bowl of food, scraped empty

**Author's Note:**

> written for 17hols round two on [dreamwidth](https://17hols.dreamwidth.org/4307.html?thread=169427#cmt169427) for this prompt:
>
>> what's one thing harder than being a single dad? being a doctor and assistant professor of general surgery too. thankfully he has his best friend, the professor of neurology, who's there for him and his son even when he least expects it. consider this exchange "what do you do for yourself that makes you happy" / "this. eating with you." consider single father jeon wonwoo hopelessly enamoured by his brilliant best friend kwon soonyoung.
> 
> i LOVE hospital playlist and i was rewatching it- this scene^, two nights ago so this prompt bonked me hard and i wrote this in the course of one evening, the fastest i have written this many words :o 

Wonwoo has only just managed to put Jinwoo back to sleep when his phone goes off, rattling the wooden table it's kept on with its insistent buzzing. He picks up before it can rouse Jinwoo— a half-asleep child is cranky in his own right but having to put an unwell kid to rest after breaking him out of deep sleep is a whole other beast that Wonwoo has learnt, _the hard way_ , not to mess with.  
  
He talks fast, in hushed whispers. “Hmm? Did you give him antibiotics? Okay keep increasing the norepinephrine, I’ll be there in a bit.”  
  
Jinwoo's chest is warm, warmer than it was minutes ago when Wonwoo checked his temperature and he can’t help but worry that it will only get worse over the night. Logically, he knows the meds take a while to kick in and Jinwoo’s fever is still mild at best. But the last few years have taught him that every rule he lives by in the hospital flies out of the window when Jinwoo is involved. Wonwoo knows well enough that he’s going to be irrationally anxious all night. All he can do now is to make an emergency call— he can't ask anyone else to check on his patient but he most definitely isn’t about to leave a feverish Jinwoo alone in bed.  
  
He checks the clock on his phone. 1:30 a.m. Hopefully, his resident will buy him some time.  
  
*  
  
He must have dozed off because he wakes up with a start, hands slipping off Jinwoo's bare tummy. There's a click of a door closing on the other side of the wall and then the door to Jinwoo's room opens. Wonwoo checks his phone.  
  
1:51 a.m.  
  
"Did you fly here?" He asks incredulously, smile breaking out on his face despite himself.  
  
*  
  
It’s almost seven by the time he leaves the hospital— a new morning despite the overcast skies stretching Seoul’s night by a couple hours. He hurries to beat the rain back home. On the drive back he dreams of a rainy night not too long ago: an evening devoid of scheduled surgeries, a downpour on the window panes and sujebi.  
  
_Maybe— well, nevermind._  
  
*  
  
He slips off his shoes quietly, at the foyer, hoping to find a well-recovered Jinwoo in bed. He pads down the corridor and opens the door to Jinwoo’s room and stops in his tracks:  
  
Soonyoung lies asleep on his side, curled into Jinwoo— an arm pulling Jinwoo close to his body, chests moving in tandem. A wet towel lies on the bed stand, on top of Soonyoung’s phone and next to a mug of water. The bedside lamp hasn’t been switched off and it casts a warm glow over their bodies. Wonwoo has a sudden vision of a morning exactly like this, one he hasn’t lived yet but wants to.  
  
He doesn’t know how long he stands there in the doorway, taking in Sooyoung’s blonde hair splayed out on his pillow, hand curved protectively around his son’s stomach— sleeping through the storm that has only just reached their windows. He only moves away when he sees Soonyoung stir, closing the door behind him.  
  
Wonwoo feels warm from the inside out, like he’s just dipped his body into a hot tub of water after getting drenched in the rain. There is no loud epiphany knocking at the door, asking him to take note of his own heart. He knows— of course he does. _He’s always known._  
  
Not the first time they met, backs against the musty walls of SNU as they waited to be called in for the interview. Not even the second first time they met, an even mustier storage closet floor beneath them and Soonyoung’s bright smile revealing not a hint of recognition— Wonwoo could wait.  
  
It crept up on him between classes and noraebang trips and Soonyoung’s insistence on dragging them for dance recitals in between their clinical trials, Junhui picking up how to play the keyboard overnight and stealing ramen from each other during band practice. By the time Soonyoung’s birthday came around, at the end of the year, Wonwoo had never been more sure of anything as he was of the fact that he was in love with Kwon Soonyoung: bassist, spotlight stealer, kimchi addict, fake vocalist and best friend, all of it included.  
  
That June, Soonyoung introduced them to the sunbae he was dating — not that it mattered. Wonwoo would wait.  
  
He makes his way to the kitchen, hungry and brimming with want.  
  
*  
  
Soonyoung shows up as he’s taking the nurungji off the pan, banchan already laid out on the table.  
  
“The fever’s gone down now. I checked before coming out.” He says before Wonwoo can ask, voice sleep-slow and slurred.  
  
Wonwoo breathes a sigh of relief. “Breakfast?”  
  
Soonyoung rubs his hands over the creases lining his eyes. “Shouldn’t you catch some sleep?”  
  
Wonwoo places the nurungji on the table and chuckles, “You know I won’t be able to wake up if I sleep now. I’ve already heated everything— let’s eat.” He pulls out a chair for Soonyoung and motions towards it.  
  
Soonyoung hesitates only for a second more before dragging himself to the chair and plopping down, face lighting up at the sight of the tiffin boxes laid out. He fumbles with the chopsticks for a moment but finally manages to take a big bite. Wonwoo’s heart swells at the sigh he lets out, eyes closed in a way that means he’s obviously enjoying the food.  
  
He finally looks up and catches Wonwoo staring. Wonwoo pointedly reaches for the kimchi.  
  
Soonyoung goes back to his food.  
  
“Mmm, this jangjorim is so good— don’t tell me you made it?” Soonyoung’s voice is muffled, mouth stuffed to the brim.  
  
“Mom sent it over. Didn’t I fry the egg perfectly?”  
  
“You did.”  
  
Wonwoo smiles around the rice, reminiscing mornings when even ramen had been a novelty. All the food that he cooks now he’s had to learn after Jinwoo was born and he still relies on packages from his mother to get by— yet, he _has_ learned and Wonwoo is grateful for it. Now, he can’t imagine going back to a life where he hadn’t experienced the joy of watching Soonyoung dig into the food he has cooked.  
  
The things he wants— they’re so simple. They were simple before Jinwoo and they remain so now but somehow twenty years have passed and they seem ever so out of reach. Perhaps it’s just that he’s allowed waiting to become his first nature.  
  
*  
  
With every bite, Wonwoo notes, Soonyoung slumps into his chair a little.  
  
“Tired?” He asks eventually.  
  
“A little, yeah. I had a coil embolisation in the evening yesterday. It took longer than expected.”  
  
“And the patient?”  
  
“He’s out of danger but he hasn’t woken up yet so it’s a waiting game now.” Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrow in contemplation.  
  
“You did well, Soonyoung-ah. You did your best.” Wonwoo says firmly, eyes fixed on Soonyoung, steadfast.  
  
Soonyoung’s eyes crinkle upwards and his mouth stretches in a soft, languid smile— Wonwoo’s favourite, an expression of gratitude Wonwoo covets zealously, heart spilling over meal after meal just so he can catch a glimpse of it— until his lips upturn in a frown.  
  
“Wonwoo-yah, go grab some sleep— you’ll be falling over yourself in the OR later, if you don’t sleep now.”  
  
Wonwoo shakes his head, “I’ll be fine, I can’t sleep now anyway. I have to check on Jinwoo once more before leaving and I have appointments at eight thirty. Plus, I need to read up for my symposium next week, I’ve hardly had any free hours for studying.”  
  
Soonyoung’s hand stills over the food. “Wonwoo,” he asks, voice careful yet stern, as if he’s telling off his interns, “when was the last time you did something for yourself?”  
  
“For myself?” Wonwoo muses out loud.  
  
Soonyoung puts down his chopsticks. “Yeah, for yourself— not Jinwoo, or your sister, or that resident you’re really fond of— for yourself.”  
  
“What have you done?” he retorts before Soonyoung can press further.  
  
Soonyoung grins, like he was hoping Wonwoo would ask. “I bought a printed tent.”  
  
“A...printed _tent_?”  
  
“You know how I go camping on the weekends? So, my old tent was getting boring so I bought myself a tent— wait let me show you a picture.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket and unlocks it excitedly, scrolling rapidly until he finds what he’s looking for. He shoves the phone under Wonwoo’s nose, shaking it, “look! Isn’t it cute— it even has tiger paw prints on it.”  
  
Wonwoo takes a look at the muddy green tent on the screen. “Soonyoung-ah, why do you even need this? Your old tent works perfectly fine, it isn’t torn or damaged or anything.”  
  
“Yah, I bought this for myself, okay? I treated myself with this! You have no idea how happy I was when it arrived.” Soonyoung scoffs.  
  
“Let me guess. It made you pull out your stupid old Shinee dance for your pre-scrubs routine.” Wonwoo answers smugly. Soonyoung sticks out his tongue. “Soonyoung-ah, do your new interns know about your tiger fetish?”  
  
Soonyoung reaches out and hits his arm. “Shut up— of course they do. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Wonwoo.”  
  
Wonwoo groans internally. A focused Soonyoung is a dangerous Soonyoung.  
  
“Tell me. What do you do for yourself?”  
  
“This. Eating with you.” It slips out of him almost helplessly and Wonwoo freezes, breath stuck in his throat, eyes slowly trailing up as he realises what he’s said.  
  
Soonyoung’s face is blank and his voice curious, as he asks, “What? What did you say?”  
  
Wonwoo exhales.  
  
“I treat myself by eating with you… just sharing a meal, grabbing a cup of coffee together. That’s all I need.”  
  
Soonyoung blinks at him and then looks away— to his left, right and then back down at his dish. The silence is unbroken except for the scraping of their chopsticks on the almost empty bowls. Wonwoo doesn’t look away from him until he looks back. He lifts his chin slightly and points at Wonwoo’s hands. “Eat up,” he says.  
  
Wonwoo schools his grin into a poker face.  
  
“Oi Kwon Soonyoung, it’s raining outside.” The bubble breaks.  
  
“What— really?” Soonyoung startles, looking over his shoulders at the window.  
  
“Yah, should we take you to an ENT? How could you not hear it till now?” Wonwoo kicks at his feet under the table.  
  
“I just didn’t notice, I guess I was too fixed on the food.” Soonyoung kicks back for good measure before getting up and walking into the kitchen. Wonwoo stretches out on his chair, watching Soonyoung put away the empty dishes in the sink.  
  
“Can I open the window?” He turns to Wonwoo eagerly, eyes wondrous and wide, as always, at the sight of the downpour. Wonwoo hums his approval and makes his way to the window, stopping beside Soonyoung.  
  
“Coffee?”  
  
Soonyoung beams.

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired by Sue Zhao's [Bowl of Fruit](https://blossomfully.tumblr.com/post/628196985235767296/in-this-house-we-dont-say-sorry-we-say-have)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/deadseoull)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/deadwine)


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